My Little Sister
by Emerald Queen
Summary: King Thranduil and the Princes of Mirkwood anxiously await the birth of their next edition, and prince Legolas gets his first wobbly tooth


Disclaimer: Legolas, Thranduil, Mirkwood, Dale and Laketown belong to the wonderful, amazing, awe-inspiring genius J.R.R.Tolkien himself. We all know that. There are, however, quite a few of my own characters in this. Please, please don't steal them.  
  
MY LITTLE SISTER  
  
In the halls of Mirkwood, a sense of excitement and expectancy hung in the air, dancing through the hearts of the elves that lived there. Messengers sat ready on their horses with baited breath, waiting to take the news to the surrounding settlements, both inside and outside the forest. Dale and Laketown would most likely be the first to hear it.  
  
Queen Imlammthien, wife of King Thranduil, was giving birth again.  
  
Even now she was in the birthing room, surrounded by midwives. There were whispers among the servants and the guards that one of the midwives had sent Thranduil out as he was getting in their way. The rumour was escorted with giggles and laughter.  
  
Outside the birthing room itself Thranduil was waiting, having been thrown out. Not for the reasons the rumours said, but because he was becoming fraught and worrying too much. So one of the healers had suggested - the kind of suggestion you cannot say no to - that he 'might go outside and wait with his sons until they called for him'.  
  
Thranduil, however, did not take kindly to waiting. Instead, he paced up and down the corridor and mumbled to himself, his hands behind his back. His crown of leaves kept slipping down over the side of his glossy, golden hair, which he would push back up without realising he was doing it. Every time a midwife came out of the door, hurrying to fetch something, the king of Mirkwood would stop them and ask if the child had been born yet.  
  
His six sons were taking it slightly better, or at least, they restrained themselves from pacing up and down the corridor like their father. They were in two groups on, one on either side of the door; the younger three sitting on the floor to the left, and the older three standing in a huddle to the right.  
  
Prince Legolas, the youngest of the six sons, was clad in green and brown velvet that he had somehow managed to keep clean for more than five minutes, and he had a toy bear in his lap. The bear was old and balding, having been handed down from prince to prince over the long years. Though it was old, the bear seemed to have much more personality than any new toy could possibly have, even if it was falling apart. This teddy bear was Lin, and Legolas was going to hand it on to his new brother . . . or sister, as the case may be, when it was finally born.  
  
As he listened to Nilwethion and Thellind, the two brothers he was sitting with, the young prince fiddled with an aggravating, wobbly tooth. It had become wobbly four days ago when he bit an apple, and being his first tooth to come loose, it had preoccupied him for hours.  
  
"It will be a boy," stated Nilwethion firmly. The prince, Legolas' senior by five years, had been arguing with Thellind over whether the child would be a boy or a girl ever since they had been told their mother was pregnant.  
  
Thellind shook his head resolutely; his golden-brown locks cascading down around his shoulders and he fiddled with the cuff of his dark green sleeve.  
  
"It will be a girl, silly," he replied.  
  
"It will be a boy."  
  
"No, a girl."  
  
"A boy."  
  
"A girl."  
  
"Honestly Thellind, stop being so stubborn! It will be a boy. Go on, admit it."  
  
"You admit it will be a girl!"  
  
The pair glared at each other for a moment before Nilwethion turned to Legolas.  
  
"Legolas," he sighed, "Tell Thellind he will be a boy."  
  
"No Legolas, tell Nilwethion she will be a girl!"  
  
The young prince blinked at them, his dainty fingers still toying with the tooth. He took them out and wiped them on his earthy coloured leggings and sat thoughtfully for a moment before answering.  
  
"Perhaps," he said, "Nana will have twins. Ask Ada, he knows."  
  
Nilwethion glowered and crossed his arms. The look on his face was exactly the same as the one the king wore on his face when arguing with councillors, but had anyone said that to him he would have pouted and stuck his tongue out at them. Not so like Thranduil.  
  
"He will not tell us because we stole the keys from captain Silnan and dropped them in the fountain, remember?"  
  
"Oh yes."  
  
Furrowing his brow, Legolas began wobbling his tooth again thoughtfully.  
  
"It will be a boy," muttered Nilwethion under his breath.  
  
"A girl," Thellind muttered back.  
  
Suddenly, the small prince let out a small yelp of pain, attracting the unwanted attention of his three oldest brothers and his father. From the end of the corridor, Thranduil covered the distance in four long strides and was standing over the young prince in an instance. From where they stood, Oroweth, Astaler and Nuryávië - the oldest princes - looked down at the brother with a look of mild interest.  
  
"Legolas, what have you done this time?"  
  
With a foolish grin on his face, Legolas looked up at Thranduil with his eyes shinning brightly. He thrust his little hand up to the king, proudly showing the prize of four days work. In his palm lay a small, perfect tooth with a bit of blood on the roots. Taking a closer look at his sons' goofy smile, Thranduil realised there was a large gap in the top row of the front teeth. He swung the elfling up in to his arms and stoked his soft hair. Legolas giggled.  
  
"Well my son, it is an improvement on breaking your leg at least," the king smiled at the wide, happy eyes of his son, his mind taken temporarily away from the worry he was feeling for his wife and the baby.  
  
"What has he done this time, adar?" asked Astaler.  
  
Turning to look at his brother, Legolas stuck his pointed tongue out at the prince and hid the tooth.  
  
"He lost his first tooth," replied the king. Oroweth raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Why is he so proud about it? 'Tis only a tooth, after all."  
  
Thranduil raised his own, perfect eyebrow back at his eldest son.  
  
"I seem to remember a certain crowned prince in tears when he lost his first one," he retorted. Oroweth flushed and bit his lip, scowling as his little brothers sitting on the floor burst in to laughter.  
  
"He cried?" howled Nilwethion, clutching at his sides, "Oroweth cried?"  
  
"I did not know they were supposed to come out," muttered the black haired prince, blushing even more furiously. Even Astaler and Nuryávië had begun to smirk. He was saved from any further embarrassment as the sound of a screaming child came from inside the birthing room. The royal family snapped their heads around to the door and Thranduil set Legolas on his feet. The young elfling slipped the tooth in to a pouch on his belt and picked up the scruffy teddy bear, clutching it tightly. Thellind and Nilwethion stood up and shot a last glare at each other.  
  
"A boy," whispered Nilwethion  
  
"A girl," replied Thellind  
  
The heavily carved oak door opened, and a smiling young midwife was standing there. The howls of the child stopped suddenly as it began to feed for the first time, and the crooning sounds of a happy mother were heard.  
  
Thranduil began jiggling up and down, impatient for the midwife to allow him to see his child. She curtseyed to the royals.  
  
"Your majesty, queen Imlammthien has given birth to a very healthy little girl," she said, and then she stood aside to let them pass. Thellind turned to Nilwethion, his grin wide and triumphant. Nilwethion, on the other hand, let his mouth drop open in dismay.  
  
"I told you it was a girl!" cried Thellind, before ducking under Thranduil's arm and in to the small room where his mother and tiny sister waited. There were still three midwives standing by the bedside.  
  
Still in the corridor, Nilwethion looked at the midwife who had now left the room.  
  
"But . . ." he said, "But it was supposed to be a boy!"  
  
The elf only smiled sweetly at him, and then hurried off to go and spread the news around the court. Legolas grabbed hold of Nilwethion's arm and dragged him in to the dark room.  
  
Inside, there were only three small candles giving light. There was one candle on each side of the bed, and the third stood on a small table that was against the opposite wall. The bed stood jutting out in to the centre of the floor, and white sheets covered it. Apart from the table and the bed, there were two small bedside cabinets, the two that held the candles, and nothing else.  
  
From where she lay holding the infant princess, queen Imlammthien looked happily up at her family. Her black hair, usually so neat and tidy, was splayed out around her in tangles and knots. Her cheeks were flushed and she breathing heavily and in her arms was the tiny, tiny little princess.  
  
As Legolas gasped with delight at seeing his baby sister, one of the midwives lit two more candles, making the room brighter. Clutching the ancient teddy bear, Legolas stepped carefully over to the bed, suddenly nervous. His mother smiled up at him happily.  
  
"You will be the first to hold her," the elven woman said quietly. With the help of Thranduil, the queen sat up, resting her back against the piled up pillows. Legolas bit his lip and put the teddy bear in to the flailing arms of the baby. At once, the little princess gripped it, squeezing the head. Her small mouth found one of the furless ears and began sucking happily on it. Imlammthien let out a happy, contented sigh.  
  
"Take her then," said Nilwethion, "I want to hold her, and I cannot until you have! If you do not pick her up then I will!"  
  
Thranduil looked at his small son and smiled. Nothing could put him out of his high spirits today.  
  
"Stick to tradition, Nilwethion."  
  
The young prince let out an exasperated sigh and poked Legolas to make him pick up the baby. It was indeed a tradition of the royal family that the youngest child was the first to hold the baby, and it had been since Thranduil had allowed a much younger Oroweth to hold Astaler before he did.  
  
At last, Legolas sat on the bed beside his mother, and she put the small child, still sucking on Lin's ear, in to his waiting arms.  
  
Smiling, Legolas stoked his sister's tiny, wrinkled hands. Opening wide blue eyes, much like his own, the baby looked up at Legolas and stopped sucking on the ear of the teddy bear for a moment. Clasping hold of one of the princes' fingers with a small fist, keeping hold of Lin with the other, the princess blinked twice and let out a small cough.  
  
"What is she called nana?" asked Legolas, not once taking his eyes of the newborn elfling.  
  
"What do you think she ought to be called, Legolas?" asked his tired parent. Legolas thought for a moment and stoked the little creature's head softly.  
  
"I think she ought to be called . . . Calensil."  
  
"I like it," said Nilwethion impatiently, "Can I hold her yet?"  
  
Thranduil laughed loudly, and Imlammthien let out a small smile before her head lolled in to her husbands arms.  
  
"Yes," she whispered, closing her eyes, "Calensil is a good name. Give Calensil to Nilwethion, Legolas."  
  
Reluctantly, Legolas did as he was told. As the little princess exchanged arms, she started howling again. Nilwethion handed her strait on to Thellind, who took her happily. She stopped crying and tugged on a lock of the young elflings hair. Nilwethion folded his arms and stuck his lower lip out.  
  
"She does not like you, little brother," laughed Nuryávië. The family joined in the laughter.  
  
A/N: Small, sweet vignette. Please leave a review - the plot bunnies love them! 


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